Sins of the Father
by SocialDisease609
Summary: The supernatural Riverdale/Greendale crossover nobody asked for! Takes place in the early 50s, y'all. Riverdale is cursed, and our lovable core four (and Co.) have to deal with turning into vampires and werewolves, oh my! On the hunt to cure themselves, they try to enlist the help of young prodigy witch, Sabrina of Greendale.
1. Chapter 1

**Greendale, 1933**

It had been four years since America changed, four years since the legendary stock market crash. In times of turmoil and struggle, people often look for scapegoats, especially to redirect their pain and aggression, and that's exactly what a band of rioters from Riverdale did on a summer night.

They marched with baseball bats, and the little canisters of gasoline and boxes of matches they could spare all the way to the overlapping outskirts of Riverdale and Greendale to pay someone a visit: Edward Spellman. The man worshiped the devil, they said, therefore _everything_ was his fault. The reason why the graduating class of '33 couldn't find a job months after graduation, why some families had one quaint meal a day, why the Blossom patriarch had committed suicide after the crash, leaving the town without their main money maker. Perhaps this tribute of piety would make things turn around.

The mob mostly consisted of angry breadwinners around the age of thirty and up, along with their wives, but there was also a group of young high school graduates, including: Fred Andrews, Hiram Lodge, Hal Cooper, Hermione Gomez, FP Jones, and Alice Smith.

When they made it to their destination, emerging out of the woods and onto a clear field, the mob beheld the Victorian home that belonged to the alleged warlock. Edward came out from the front door, fear and courage both behind his eyes.

"What have you come for?" He asked, holding his head up high.

"We've come to set things right!" Shouted a man in the crowd.

"Oh, how so?" Edward asked, putting his hands in his pockets to hide his shaking hands.

"By sending you to hell, where you belong!" The man shouted back, with the crowd murmuring in agreement. "You brought the devil into New York, you let him crash the market!"

"Now that's far-reaching," Edward chuckled briefly.

"No, it's the truth! If we didn't let people like you in these neighborhoods bad things wouldn't happen!" Shouted someone else.

"We can't feed our families!" Shouted another.

"We won't be able to continue paying our mortgage!"

"I can't clothe my children!"

"I haven't found a job for 2 years! I only have a few dollars left!"

"This isn't because of me," Edward explained. "… Or my family. The fault lies with the economy and the government. It wasn't because of any deity or by spiritual actions. Sometimes those responsible for you let you down. Sometimes the systems we put in place do not work a hundred percent of the time. And nothing stays in working condition forever…"

"Stop trying to make it seem like you aren't at fault! We know this is all your fault." Resumed the cries of the crowd. And before Edward could open his mouth to reply again, someone had tossed a canister of gasoline, with a rag down it's spout, into one of the windows.

"Diana!" The warlock shouted, turning on his heels to get into the home. The mob rushed the second he moved, and they tackled him, slamming the man into the patio. Men held him down while the women counted their verbal assault, and the young, caught up in the hype, began to throw their canisters into the home as well. "Zelda!" Edward groaned, trying to shake off the rioters holding him down. "Hilda! Take- take everyone and go! Go!"

The house began to flicker with flames in the windows, smoke curling up the blazing curtains. The sound of fire crackling as it broke down furniture filling the air.

"Don't let anyone escape!" A rioter commanded and many got up to surround the house.

The sky was dark being night, but the smoke from the burning home only added to the darkness, covering the stars and the glaring presence of the moon. There were the shouts of women in the distance, getting farther and farther away into the tree line behind the house, and when their voices seemed far enough, Edward loosened his resistance against his captors. Perhaps he was content with dying here tonight if he knew that someone he cared about got away.

But his hope was short lived, because there was someone inside the house.

"Edward!" Called a female voice.

Edward's eyes widened.

"Edward, I'm coming back for you!"

"Diana! Diana, no!" Edward tried to shake the mob off of him once more, but they were too strong. He began to be bludgeoned by the crowd's weapons, smashing into his legs, batting at his ankles and his head. He grunted from the pain, but would not surrender.

"Edward, I'm-"

"Quick!" Shouted a rioter. He and a few of his comrades threw the last of their canisters into the house, fame already at the tip of the rags. They crashed into the home together, and exploded, rupturing as one massive unit, blowing everything out of the windows. Many rioters were hit from the debris, but their injuries were minimal in comparison to the greatest casualty. The heart a woman shriek in terrifying pain, and only a few eyewitnesses could confirm years later that they saw a woman completely ablaze, falling apart in one last confused bought of survival instinct.

The sheer cry from Edward Spellman shook everyone's soul. "Diana! My Diana! Riverdale!" The crowd pulled him from the smoking wreckage, not caring that he hit every wooden step of the patio on the way down. "Riverdale!" His hair was disheveled, his once clean white shirt and pressed trousers were dirtied and ripped, and his face streamed with blood. "Riverdale, I curse you. With my last dying breath. I curse you. May the first born of the next generation be cursed to live their lives in shadows or on all fours! On the first night that they enter the world, may they be forced into lives of the beast!"

And those were his last words, and his last sight was not the ruins of his home, or the barely visible figure of women running into the woods, but the wooden surface of a bat swinging forward to crush his face.

**RIVERDALE, 20 YEARS LATER, 1953**

Betty flipped through her portfolio, the one she kept hidden from her parents. It was a folder full of news clippings and hand-written copies of cop dossiers, all about the disappearance of her older sister, Polly Cooper. It had happened a year ago today, on the night of Polly's high school graduation, and now, on the night of her very own, Betty felt a peculiar attraction to revisit her personal investigation. No one knew what happened to her sister, the case went cold quick, and it was just eventually accepted as an unsolved kidnapping case.

Betty wished she had been home when it happened, but Polly, feeling ill, had encouraged her family to go out and watch the premiere of a new movie at the cinema. It was supposed to be a treat for the whole family to celebrate Polly's graduation, but she said it was okay to leave since she knew how excited they were to see the film. But when they had returned, they found Polly's room trashed, the bed linens thrown about, the contents of her vanity destroyed, shards of glass and small pools of perfume on the surface, and the window, shattered out of its frame, with blood dripping off the fragments.

Weeks after, Betty would walk down the streets of Riverdale, quickly glancing a look into the eyes of those who passed her by, wondering if they were the ones who took her sister. If those eyes were the last ones to look into Polly's. The killer was still out there, and Betty knew it was no place for a lady, but she wanted to be the one to catch the villain, and maybe, just maybe, by the graces of the universe, find her sister alive and bring her home.

Tonight, after a charming graduation party at Thornhill, Betty had returned home with her best friend Veronica as company. Veronica had joked that since they were both going to end up in different colleges, she wanted to spend as much time together as possible before the inevitable separation happened.

"Are you researching again?" Veronica asked, coming to stand behind Betty, who was seated at her vanity. She placed her hands on Betty's shoulders for comfort.

"Oh…" Betty sighed, placing a document down, "I just feel like I should be looking at it tonight, I don't know… just a feeling. You ever get struck by… a calling?"

Veronica frowned and shook her head. "Not yet, I wish I did, though. With that strong initiative of yours, you could probably get any career field you want."

"Oh, please," Betty chuckled, "Initiative isn't enough for them to let women into just any field."

"You never know," Veronica smiled. "You might be the one to start the movement."

Betty took one last look at her documents and then got up from her chair. With a sigh, Betty smiled at looked down at Veronica. "Ready for bed?"

* * *

Veronica woke up at 12:34 AM. The house was eerily silent. As her senses began to return to her, she realized she was very warm all over. Betty's comforter was always good at insolating heat, but this was more than usual. It didn't help that Betty was hugging her, deep in sleep, with Veronica's back pressed into Betty's front. Veronica loved waking up in Betty's embrace, and this was the only kind of moment she let herself selfishly indulge upon. She would never say it, no, not in this world, that she was helplessly in love with her best friend. She pledged to herself to never let Betty find out. She would rather have Betty forever as a cherished friend than lose her forever for confessing her secret.

Veronica softly kissed the one of Betty's hands before slowly moving the slumbering girl's arm off her and slipping out of the blankets. She quietly made her way out of the room, her bare feet padding down the carpeted steps of the home and into the kitchen. Veronica felt a sheer layer of cold sweat begin to form on her skin. She tried to shiver off the peculiarity. Perhaps she was getting sick. She pulled a glass out of the cupboards and went to the sink, pushing the faucet handle to the right, wanting the coldest water available. The water surged out and filled the cup. As if suffering from a drought, Veronica quickly lifted the glass to her lips and chugged. She breathed heavily with she could, taking the entire contents impressively fast. She breathed heavily as she brought the empty cup down, resting it on the counter. And then like a flash of lighting, pain seared through her mouth. She hunched over, gripping the countertop and squeezing her eyes tight. Trying to balance her stomaching for pain, she tried to pinpoint the source, and her brain suggested it was her teeth. The front of her mouth throbbed. She never experienced what a toothache felt like, but figured this dull, yet strong pulsing, was evident of one. She couldn't tell which tooth it came from though, as the whole top front row of her mouth felt tender.

Veronica walked over to the cabinet where she knew the Cooper family kept their medicines. She opened it and looked through, pulling out standard pain killers. She withdrew a standard dosage of pills from the bottle, returned the medicine to the cabinet, and made her way back to her cup, and refilled it once more at the sink. She tossed the pills in her mouth and then immediately chased it with the cold water. She prayed it would take affect soon, this pain felt like it was making its way to her brain. She took a moment to relax and look out the kitchen window. It was a semi cloudy night, and the moon was full and bright. And then her stomach seemed to pinch. Veronica groaned, her mind spinning. What was wrong with her? Something traveled up her throat and she gagged.

"Oh no, please," Veronica muttered to no one. She gagged again, and her stomach twisted and wrenched inside of her. And then up came all the water she had drank, vomited into the kitchen sink. With a fourth lurch, the pills came up as well, clinking into the metallic sink. "Ohhhhh," Veronica groaned, her stomach still folding in half, but done with expelling its contents. She weakly flipped the faucet open to wash everything down the drain. Turning it off, her brain told her to eat. She was sick for sure. Her body often made her go down the list of possible remedies. If water didn't work, try medicine, if medicine didn't work, try food, if food didn't work, try a bath, if a bath didn't work, try to sleep. She was halfway through her typical self-treatment already, why not continue down the list?

Hunched over, clutching her stomach, she made her way to the fridge, and pull open the door. The cold air rushed over her sweating skin and it made her feel even more sick. Her eyes scanned the contents. Vegetables, bread, eggs, grapes and apples, and wrapped in parchment paper were a few steaks Mr. Cooper was going to grill tomorrow. They called to her, but Veronica rolled her eyes. She did not have the time to make steak in the middle of the night, particularly steak that wasn't hers. This wasn't her home, and meat was expensive. She would be a terrible guest to take that from the Coopers. Yet her hand still reached for the package. She didn't know what she was doing, but she didn't seem to have the care to stop herself. She pulled the paper a part calmly, the sound of it crackling in the quiet dark home. And Veronica stared at it. She stared at it hard. The muscle in the paper was such a deep red, Veronica thought she just might have fallen in love. Blood slowly seemed out of the meat, and Veronica watched a drop sluggishly roll down the brown paper. Her mouth watered and she was washed with a desire to bite it and drink the juices from it until it was dry. and deep in her instincts, she wished what she held in her hands was warm.

"Veronica?"

Veronica startled. Betty stood in the archway of the kitchen, her eyes barely open.

"What are you doing here?" the blonde asked.

"Nothing!" Veronica quickly wrapped the meat back up and threw it into the fridge, closing the door with a little too much force.

"Are you hungry?" Betty grumbled from exhaustion. "I can make you something to eat." Betty sluggishly made her way to the fridge.

"No, that's okay, I'm just not feeling well, I don't know exactly what I'm doing?" Veronica whispered with a laugh. Betty's eyes were squinting this whole time, not wanting to wake herself further by opening them wider.

"I knew something was off," Betty said quietly. "I woke up with a feeling that something was wrong, and you were gone from bed." Betty placed herself in front of Veronica and put the back of her hand against her friend's forehead. Veronica froze in place as Betty tested her temperature. Usually Veronica relished touches from Betty, but for some reason, all Veronica could focus on was what seemed to be… the fact that she could hear Betty's pulse from her wrist? "Oh wow, you're… cold. Very cold. We need to get something warm into you. I can make you a canned soup. It's not much, but it will warm you up, and you can have some toast with it."

"Betty," Veronica said exasperatedly, closing her eyes. She gripped the hand Betty was using to test her, her thumb resting on the inner wrist. Veronica swallowed, feeling the rhythm of Betty's blood pulsing with beat after beat, measuring the flow with what passed beneath her thumb.

"Yes?" Betty asked, and there was a waver of uneasiness to it. Veronica opened her eyes at the sound of discomfort from the person she loved.

But Veronica didn't get to say anything more. Suddenly, there was a thunderous crashing noise, and it made both girl's jump. It didn't come from inside the house, it had come from outside, and very close. Betty had taken off first, Veronica following, both of them making their way to the front door, not bothering with slippers. Betty rounded the corner of the house, coming to an abrupt stop at the place between the Cooper and the Andrews household.

Betty's heart beat furiously at what she saw, and Veronica herself knew she was in shock herself, as she couldn't even feel her own heart stir at all. She could see in her peripherals lights from the surrounding houses flick on, and heard the shouts of Mr. Andrews from within.

"Veronica," Betty's voice trembled and she reached a hand behind herself, wanting Veronica to take it as she kept her eyes fixed on Archie's bedroom window. Veronica grasped it instantly. She knew Betty needed her right now.

"It's just like…" Veronica started.

"Just like Polly…" Betty finished.

Archie's window as completely destroyed, the curtains ripped and torn, caught on the stalactite shards of remaining glass, blood smearing and dripping from the window and sliding down the side panels of the home. His room, was no doubt a murder scene that Betty was dying to see.


	2. Chapter 2

"Archie!"

Betty and Veronica could hear the cries of Fred Andrews shouting the name of his only son from inside the house. Given that Betty and Archie were childhood friends, Betty knew exactly where the Andrews' family hid their spare key. Trying to keep her hands from shaking, Betty flipped over the ceramic cat that sat next to the garden gnome with a blue cap. Plucking the brass key from out of its impression in the dirt, Betty jogged up the patio and inserted the key into the door.

"Mr. Andrews?" Betty called out as soon as she walked into the home.

"Betty, we can't-" Veronica said, reaching out to grab Betty's arm. But Betty was too fast, and Veronica couldn't make the grasp. Betty ran up the stairs, her slippers padding hard against the carpet with each step.

"Archie!" Came Mr. Andrews once again, the agony clear in his voice. The girls made it up the stairs in a matter of seconds, and Veronica felt weaker and weaker with the simple exertion. Betty pushed the ajar door open and it slammed against the door stop against the wall.

Fred Andrews turned around from the broken window, which dripped thick blood, his eyes red, fighting off tears.

"Girls," he breathed out shakily, before trying to regain his composure. "Girls, Archie's gone!"

"Did you see anyone? Was anyone in the house?" Betty asked, her eyes scanning the scene. Archie's standing mirror was shattered to pieces, blood all over the shattered shards- it had been punched. The linen on his bed was disheveled, as if he were yanked out of bed and twisted in his sheets. His toiletries on his dresser were smashed, and the room gave a strong punch of cologne. Articles of clothing were shredded on the floor, and Betty could only assume they were the clothes he wore to bed, because in Polly's case, her favorite sleeping set was also destroyed on the ground.

Betty's stomach twisted, her mind returning to the thoughts she had last year, fearing her sister, and now Archie, could have been violated by the same sick monster.

"I'm going to call the police," Veronica said, her head overwhelmed with drowsiness at the sight of the blood. She made her way down to the first floor and found the phone, spinning the rotary dial.

She waited but a few seconds before an officer picked up on the other line.

"Riverdale Police Department."

"Yes, I would like to report a kidnapping. And, uh, home invasion. A home invasion that resulted in a kidnapping." Veronica corrected after clearing her throat.

"Are you at the scene of the crime?"

"Yes, Officer."

"Is the scene secure?"

"Uh… I don't think the kidnapper is here, if that's what you mean."

"Okay, Miss, this is what I need you to do: I need you to make sure no one disturbs the crime scene. I can't guarantee you an ETA for an officer. We have been receiving all kinds of similar calls tonight. Even the Sheriff is unavailable."

"What do you mean?" Veronica asked, feeling herself become colder and colder.

"It has happened to the sheriff too…" the Officer explained.

Veronica was silent. _What was happening?_

"The… even the sheriff?"

"Miss, please follow my instructions. Lock all your doors and windows, don't let anyone inside except for a police officer. Secure the scene and secure your home. What is your address?"

While Veronica gave the address, Hal and Alice Cooper were knocking at the door. She figured it was okay to let them in. They were, no doubt, going through what Betty was. Cautiously they made their way up the stairs and into Archie's room, and wept along with Fred. But Betty? Betty was energized. Veronica could see Betty's mind calculating all the equations, her eyes wide from stimulation.

"What are you thinking?" Veronica asked in a whisper, as she walked up to Betty and gingerly held onto her left arm with both hands.

"The trail's fresh," Betty whispered back, not looking at Veronica as she spoke. However, she did reach up to place her right hand over Veronica's, subconsciously attempting to warm up her friend. "We need to go outside. If they exited from the window…" Betty's brows furrowed in frustration. "But it's so bizarre at the same time. Who exits from the window? Obviously, they came in through the window, too… unless the killer knew of the key under the rock… and then placed in back after they unlocked the door? It's… as odd as it is- as hard as it is for me to understand… we must look outside. Under the window."

Veronica frowned. She didn't want to solve any of this. She wanted to be as far away from this negative energy as possible. To be somewhere locked away safe and sound. But she also loved Betty with all her heart, and she wanted to do what Betty wanted to do, too.

"Let's go then," Veronica whispered. She removed her hands from Betty's arms and walked into the middle of the room, gaining the attention of the parents.

"I'm going to call my parents," she said. "They should take me home, keep me safe."

The parents nodded in agreement, over enthusiastically.

"We'll make the call," Veronica said, "don't you worry about us, please. We will leave you to your thoughts."

The girls silently left the house and then went back inside the Cooper household, getting dressed as quickly as they could. They needed practical clothes for this trek, so Betty lent Veronica some of her clothes. When they were finished, dressed in trousers, button up cotton shirts, light cardigans, and quaint walking shoes, they snuck out and grabbed their bicycles and walked them to the edge of the Andrews home, and surveyed the scene. It was really too dark to see much, and Betty cursed herself for not grabbing a flashlight in their rush to dress.

"There," Veronica said, her stomach clenching. She pointed at the dark grass.

"What? What is it?" Betty asked, getting closer to the area Veronica pointed to. "What do you see?"

"It's blood," Veronica said. Her stomach tightened again. _Good lord, what's wrong with my body?_ She stomached the pain, not wanting her mysterious condition to ruin Betty's investigation.

"How can you see that?" Betty reached out and touched the blades of grass, and when she felt her finger were wet, she pulled her hand away and held it up in the direction of the streetlights. From the weak yellow glimmer, she saw red shimmer on the tip on her finger.

"It goes that way." Veronica pointed down the street.

"You've got some good eyes, V," Betty said in amazement.

"Yeah, I guess my senses are just heightened… from all this…" Veronica mounted her bike, and Betty did with hers, and off they went down the street, with Veronica leading the way.

"I can't believe this has happened again," Betty said. While these words would normally be said in anxiety, Veronica read Betty's excitement loud and clear. Poor Betty. Poor vigilante Betty. All she wanted was to save her sister, when they both knew there was no saving for Polly, only avenging; and if they caught whoever did this…

Veronica shivered as she continued to pedal down the damp streets, shimmering in the white rays of the moon. They were just two girls fresh out of high school, there was no way they could take down a potential serial killer- especially one who had the power to take down star quarterback Archie Andrews.

"Betty, we need to be careful," Veronica warned.

"Of course, V, we're not gonna confront who this … villain is. Unless they catch us. We just need to see who it is, then we can have justice." Betty peddled harder, now next to Veronica instead of behind her.

They peddled in silence for a while after that, as Veronica continued to quietly lead, until they hit a roadblock. A roadblock of Ghoulies…

Three members stood in the middle of the road, at the intersection of Riley and Tanner Street. It was the main junction into the South Side.

Betty and Veronica applied the breaks to their bikes. Betty grimaced.

"What are two nice girls doing out at this time of night?" The man in the middle of the three began to tease, his arms draped around a baseball bat he rested on the back of his neck.

"Nothing that concerns you," Betty retorted.

Veronica hadn't noticed how she was feeling until they had stopped their bikes. If she felt sick before, she was definitely about to die now. She never felt weaker in her life.

"Betty," Veronica groaned. She called out to her like a child seeking its mother when ill. She instinctively needed comfort and couldn't keep herself from feebly implying for it.

"What about your friend there?" The thug asked, a mischievous trademark bad-boy smirk on his face. His green eyes flashed as his greasy blond hair fell loosely in front of them.

"Don't look at her," Betty warned.

The boys laughed at her intimidation technique. "I think I'll do what I want," the leader continued. He took a few steps forward. "You and your friend are on my turf, anyway…"

"Don't come any closer…" Betty warned again, pointing a finger.

All three men walked forward, jeering immaturely, and then, they broke out into a sprint towards the girls. Two made their way towards Betty, and the one with the baseball bat made his way to Veronica. The men crashed into them, removing them from their bikes and crashing onto the floor. Frantically, Betty tried to fight the two men who collided into her, trying to find the right position to turn the tables.

Veronica on the other hand, couldn't find it within her to fight. She was too weak.

"No fight, baby?" The man teased in her ear. His hands ran up the sides of her body greedily. Thrumming in Veronica's ears was the powerful beating of his heart, picking up in pace due to increasing arousal. What a rush of blood flowing through him. Veronica's arms weakly moved to embrace his shoulders. It was an instinctual move. "Getting romantic, huh?" he asked with a laugh, gripping her hip firmly. _No_.

She pressed her lips to his neck, the ridge of the jugular twitching under her touch. She then parted her lips and grazed her teeth over his flesh, and bit.

The man yelped and tried to tug away from her, but her puncture was deep and as the blood from his neck rushed into her mouth and soaked into her tongue, Veronica got stronger and stronger in her grip. For an atom of a second, Veronica questioned her actions, but once the taste of copper touched her tongue, all human thought left her mind, and was replaced by the need to continue to feed. Her tongue pressed on his neck with each swallow, creating a suckling action, pushing blood out of the street rat faster. Veronica moaned at the pleasure of strengthening so quickly.

"Let go!" The man shrieked flopping on top of her like a fish out of water. "Let go of me, you bitch!" He tried to push away once more, this time grabbing her hair in a frantic tangle, and tore her face from his neck, and he cried out once more, this one more dire than the first. In the action, Veronica had tore more of the man's neck, and as he removed himself from her, scrambling to get up, eyes welled in his eyes at the sight of the woman underneath him. Veronica still laid on the ground, her chest heaving deeply, her mouth drenched in blood, running down her chin and onto the collar of her shirt. Her cheeks were bright pink, as if she had finished running a mile. All in all, in this horror, she was strangely beautiful, and his heart beat even harder at the bizarre sight.

"Fuck," he blubbered, his hand reaching up to his neck to staunch the bleeding. "Guys! Guys, let's go!" He turned around to address the rest of his goonies, but became startled in the sight before him. One Ghoulie was on his hands and knees, nursing a hit to his head, while the second was still standing. Wrestling with Betty. In an impressive maneuver, Betty grabbed the man's left sleeve and his right collar, all the while turning herself slightly to place a leg against his loin, enabling her to throw him over effortlessly. He landed on the concrete with a crunch, no doubt horrific damage done to his hip bone and knee. "What are these bitches?!" He shrieked. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

The other two tried to disengage. The one with the head injury reached for his partner who was still squirming on the floor, reaching for his side that had come into violent contact with the ground. They leaned on each other as they followed their leader, who wobbled a bit as he tried to run.

"Veronica!" Betty cried out, as the men retreated into the distance. She ran over to her friend, who was just now getting up from the gravel. "Good lord, you're bleeding!" Betty's eyes frantically scanned Veronica's face, looking for an open wound.

"It's not mine," Veronica said easily. "I bit him. I know it's probably messy, but it was… it was the only thing I could think of."

Betty nodded in understanding. "It's okay," She comforted. She removed her own cardigan and began to wipe Veronica's face of the blood.

"Oh, Betty, no," Veronica sympathized. She watched Betty's eyes as she cleaned her face.

"It's okay, I know how to get it out…" Betty continued to focus on cleaning Veronica. "You took a chunk out of him, huh?" Betty smiled. "That's my girl."

Veronica held Betty's gaze with a shy smile. Betty's lip seemed to quirk as she felt Veronica gaze on her so gently. With a flush in her cheeks, Betty reached out to lightly caress Veronica's face.

"Even a frayed look makes you beautiful, V," she said. Veronica was on cloud nine. Was it the compliment- she lived for Betty's love- or was it the blood? That brought her back to what had just happened. She bit a man in self-defense. That was understandable, but… she had begun to drink his blood during her defense. Was it the adrenaline that made it tolerable to taste?

"Girls! You shouldn't be out here!"

The two shuddered at the new voice, their nerves returning to the fight or flight response they were in just minutes ago.

Before them stood FP Jones. He wore his Serpents jacket, as all members did, but they knew not to fear this gang member.

"Yes, I'm… I'm taking Veronica home…" Betty lied.

"From here?"

"…yes."

FP made a face that suggested he knew the girl was lying, but moved past it. "I meant what I said. You girls need to get home quick. We've been having Ghoulie infestations these days." Veronica and Betty both wanted to tell him how they well knew this to be true, but refused to impart their clash unto the revered Serpent. "Say," FP began, changing the subject. "Have you crossed paths with Jughead? He said he had a really big toothache and left the Whyte Wyrm to go to the drug store."

"No," both girls admitted truthfully.

FJ frowned. "He took too long to come back, so I went to the closest one to the bar, but the clerk said he hadn't seen him. So then I went to the next one, and the next one… I'm afraid some Ghoulies got him."

"We'll let you know if we see him, Mr. Jones," Betty nodded.

"Alright, thank you, girls." He began to walk off again, scanning the streets subtly. "You get home quick! I mean it!"

After FP had departed, the girls continued their peddling, searching for the blood trail that only Veronica could miraculously differentiate between the water on the wet black streets. Their hearts began to pound as they finally made their ways to the outskirts of Riverdale, all the way to the grassland junction between their hometown and their neighbor, Greendale. The sun was rising in the distance, an orange and pink spill across the sky, eliminating all the stars that had illuminated their path beforehand, being replaced by the tides of the sun. Betty began to slow down in her pace, a little worn from the long travels.

"This is crazy," Betty puffed. "Are you sure we are still on the trail?" They pushed harder on their pedals as they navigated through tall thick grass.

Veronica felt like she should doubt herself, but deep inside, she knew she was still on track.

"Yes," she said, feeling a mysterious painful itch on her hands and face as she continued to pedal, the hues of the sunrise bathing the two girls as they continued on through the green fields.

And then the girls pulled their breaks again, having to put a foot down into the ground to assist the bicycles.

Betty hopped off her bike and didn't even put the stand up, letting it clatter onto the ground carelessly, as she stumbled forward.

"I can't believe it…" she said.

Veronica couldn't either. Creating a great impression in the grass was the naked form of Archie Andrews, covered in sweat and blood.

"Is he… is he dead?" Betty's voice caught in her throat as she carefully walked over. Her eyes were pink from holding back emotion.

"No," answered a voice that wasn't Veronica's.

The girls turned around to their third mysterious voice of the night.

With bags under his eyes and his skin blanched, stood Jughead Jones. He looked deathly sick and worrisome.

"Something's happened," he warned. "Something bad. To the both of us…"


End file.
